


Darkshines

by orphan_account



Series: In the Company of Wolves [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a word – just one word, but it might as well be a paragraph, an entire novel, a tattoo that patterns the inside of his throat, lungs, heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkshines

It starts with a word – just one word, but it might as well be a paragraph, an entire novel, a tattoo that patterns the inside of his throat, lungs, heart. 

Richard’s been back living with Jim for just under two weeks and he still is waking every night disoriented and terrified, eyes struggling to parse out darkness from the shape of his brother lying next to him, hands gripped into fists as he takes quiet steps out of the bedroom to spend the rest of his nights on the sofa.

Fourteen months they were apart, by Richard’s own will, and he feels more damaged now than he ever did in the months before he left. 

Tonight he pulls on clothing from the duffel he still hasn’t unpacked and slips out into the freezing night. It doesn’t start raining until he’s too far to turn back, so instead he walks faster, shoving himself further into his coat and watching his breath dissolve in the wet air, thinking about his flat in Galway and the easels he sold to buy the plane ticket and the way Jim’s eyes strike him through like an insect pinned to corkboard. 

It’s different between them now. Understandable, after a lifetime spent intertwined was broken apart by Richard’s fear and desire to cling to morals he’s never sure ever really existed. He’s still doesn't know why Jim let him live, much less why Jim allowed him to come back, but he knows he’s being punished now, in the way Jim touches him like he’s made of cheap fabric and stained with ink, in the calculating gaze that scrapes at him like steel wool. And Richard misses his brother. Misses the way they used to be, when there were no questions and they fit together closer than they fit into their own skin. 

Richard’s breath is coming fast and he realizes he’s been running, and he’s coming up to a part of town he’d rather not be in at half four in the morning, so he turns back. Facing the only thing he’s ever really known, toward something that he might never regain, toward a past littered with corpses and doubt and all Richard wants is his brother. 

The flat is silent and dark when he returns, Sebastian off on some errand, and Richard sheds down to his briefs in the living room. His skin is soaked and he’s numb all the way through, too cold to even shiver, too empty to really care, and he finds his way back toward the bedroom with the feeling of a noose around his throat. 

Jim is awake, of course. Half propped up in the bed, eyes glittering in the darkness in a way that makes it even harder to breathe. “Did you find whatever you were looking for?” he asks, casual and cruel, and Richard only has a single word for him, but it might as well be his signature in blood. 

“Jim,” he whispers into the darkness, and takes a halting step forward, ignoring the urge to run and wanting to scream and desperately wanting his brother to fix it like he always has. “Jimmy.” Richard stumbles into kneeling on the bed, hands clamped on his thighs, beseeching and helpless. He lowers his head, breathing fast through his nose, and it’s like he’s waited the past fourteen months for this, and he knows he gave it all up and he’s not sure why anymore, because this is all that matters.

Jim’s fingers skim along his jaw and Richard almost gasps, feeling heavy tears beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes, feeling Jim’s hand moving down to caress the veins in his neck, and Richard is suddenly nearly shaking with desperation. “Hush, Richie,” Jim murmurs, and when Richard looks up at him he can see the victory in Jim’s eyes that crushes the last of whatever made him run, and also feels utterly right, and Richard leans forward until his forehead is against Jim’s collarbone, and doesn’t let himself cry. 

Jim cups the back of his neck, stroking his skull with one thumb. “Poor lost lamb,” Jim coos, and he’s mocking him but Richard doesn’t care because Jim is touching him like he used to. “Lost your flock, haven’t you?” Richard reaches out, hands fisting in Jim’s shirt, and shakes his head. “No?”

“Shouldn’t have left,” Richard gets out, and the words taste bitter because he knows it’s true. 

He can feel Jim’s pleasure in the darkness, in the stroke of his fingers along Richard’s scalp, and the movement pauses briefly before Jim’s asking, “And have you learned your lesson?”

 _What kind of question is that_ , Richard wants to hiss, but doesn’t because it’s obvious. “Don’t want to leave again,” he whispers harshly into Jim’s neck, and swallows. “Won’t, Jimmy.”

Pain shocks his system as Jim’s hand turns to a harsh vice in his hair, jerking his head to the side, and he rides the edge of panic before it subsides and leaves him in a quiet breath, warmth jolting through numb nerves. “No,” Jim speaks directly into his ear, and Richard can feel the consonants vibrating through his grey matter. “You _won’t_ , will you?” Not a question but a promise, and then his teeth are raking over Richard’s neck, and Richard’s sagging against him, Jim’s hands sharp and sure against his scalp, back, encompassing him.

It feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be the dirtybadwrong porn I've had in my head for months, but I realized I was missing a bit of backstory. That will hopefully get written soon, now that this is sorted out. 
> 
> I have a lot of headcanon surrounding Jim and Richard's relationship - I think this ficlet encompasses some of the darkest parts of it. I think most of the time they are equals, but there is always a sense of possession, and this is leaning a little more toward Stockholm Syndrome than I would have preferred, but I think it fits for this point in this 'verse.


End file.
